So, the other day, I had a conversation with a guy who was working around the church that has been noodling around in the back of my mind ever since. He asked me what I thought happened after we die and what heaven was like. Now, I'm a priest, and he assumed at seminary we have had these conversations. But honestly, y'all, we never did.
We are good at saying what scripture says about all that, but it doesn't really say all that much. And we are pretty good at answering little kids when they ask if pets go to heaven (the answer is absolutely yes). But the fact is, priests don't really know anymore than any of you. And near as I know, only one person has ever been resurrected, and he pretty much stayed mum about the time he was away.
And the more I think about it, the more frustrated I get, because doggone, I should be able to give a satisfactory answer.
I was thinking about this the other day after I took my mom and brother to the airport. When they leave, one ritual we always have is to stop at the diner in Sherburne on our way to Syracuse. The flight leaves early, so by the time we leave here, get over the hill, and into Sherburne, it's about 7:00, and they are fired up and ready to serve.
Well, that restaurant has changed hands as you may know. The food is about the same, I suppose, but there is one thing different on the menu. Grits. Y'all. Grits.
I wonder if you've had them the way they should be in the South? Now, you may have had Shrimp and grits, or cheesey grits. Maybe even grits with something Mexican. If you were a depression baby there is the slightest chance you might have had a mixture of grits and ground beef, fried up to make a slugburger. But I wonder if you've had grits? Like grits grits. Grits in a bowl with butter and salt. If you were lucky, maybe add a spoonful of red-eye gravy. Grits. Southern oatmeal. Those grits.
Well, I got me a bowl and some extra butter pats and went to town. I was transported back to down home and it put a smile on my face and about a pound of glue in my belly.
It was heaven. And that's when it struck me.
The kingdom of heaven is not a thing for the future, it's not a place on the clouds. It's not something that happens when we die. It's here, now, waiting to break through if we'd only let it. We so often see glimpses of it. Like eating soul food with your family, or coming over a hill and seeing beautiful pastures in the distance with hay bales rolled up and sprinkled around. Or watching children running around without a care in the world. Or getting a hug from someone. Or finding out that Pennsylvania peaches are just about as good as Georgia peaches.
These little snippets of joy that just burst through when we let our defenses down and let it happen. Letting the Spirit of God wash over us until we see that things are just about perfect, if only for this moment. That's the kingdom of heaven, the Kingdom of God. Here and now, not off in the distance, for another time and place.
And I thought, that's what I need to tell say to that dude the next time I see him. And I'm here to tell YOU that after I thought all that, I came to the conclusion that all that's wrong! Well, not wrong exactly. Because I still believe it. I still believe that we constantly experience heavenly moments. But it's not the whole thing.
In our Gospel reading today, Jesus is holding forth with parable after parable, explaining the kingdom of heaven. I used to imagine that this was Jesus being frustrated with his followers. Like he's trying to describe heaven, and people just keep looking at him with blank faces. As if he gives an example, and they go, “Huh?” And he says, “Ok, how about this?” And he tries again, and they go, “Huh?” And he keeps at it, example after example. Then he stops and gives them the side eye, and says, “Do you have any idea what I'm talking about?” And they all say, “ummmmm, sure!” You can just hear him sigh as he slaps his forehead.
But what if that's not it at all. What if Jesus is riling up the crowd. What if he's showing them that the kingdom of heaven is not all the things that happen to them, but that the kingdom of heaven is all the things THEY do for OTHERS? What if WE are God's kingdom of heaven here on Earth? What if that's our role as Christians, not to prepare others for heaven, but to be heaven here on Earth for them?
The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed which grows into this huge aggressive weed. And we are the kingdom of heaven when we treat someone else with a tiny seed of kindness in the day. When we say thank you in the checkout lane, when we smile at the stranger we pass on the street, when we hold a door open, when we give that dollar to that beggar. Small bits of love that soon take over the lives of those around us.
The kingdom of heaven is like yeast, that catalyst that causes bread to rise. And we are the kingdom of heaven when WE are a catalyst in the lives of others, not forcing change in their lives, but by being a holy presence, and letting that change, that growth in a relationship with Christ occur on it's own.
The kingdom of heaven is like a treasure found by someone who sells all he has to get it. And we are the kingdom of heaven when we sacrifice what we have, giving to others out of love and generosity, making their lives better than they imagined, BEING treasures in the world.
The kingdom of heaven is a pearl merchant who sells his entire stock to get the most perfect pearl in the world. And we are the kingdom of heaven when we engage with others, showing them that the riches of this world – be they wealth, power, or fame – are nothing when accepting the greatest riches of loving and being loved by God.
The kingdom of heaven is a net thrown into the sea and bringing in all kinds of fish. And we are the kingdom of heaven when we bring in all people, loving them regardless, knowing that judging is not our business. Out business is to love, to nourish. Our business is kingdom business. Our business is heaven business.
Oh, what a world it would be when we allow ourselves to transform it and be transformed by it. A kingdom of heaven here and now, brought on by us when we live into the parables of Jesus in a brand new way.
And maybe, just maybe, that's what I'll tell the next person who asks me about heaven.